


Whatever Means Necessary

by Rhaized



Category: His Dark Materials (TV), His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Genre: But she will take her by whatever means necessary, Child Abuse, Drugging, Gen, Kidnapping, Missing Scene, Perhaps a bit more hesitant Mrs Coulter, She tries to reason with Lyra at first, season 2 episode 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:07:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28208055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhaized/pseuds/Rhaized
Summary: It wasn’t easy being a parent, or being someone responsible for something so much greater than oneself. It wasn't as glamorous as people might assume. It was filled with a certain sense of duty that Mrs. Coulter couldn't even begin to describe.—or—Right after Mrs. Coulter finds Lyra in the canyon, she pleads with her to come with her before turning to the only way she knows to keep her daughter safe. [Missing scene in 2x07 of HDM]
Relationships: Lyra Belacqua & Marisa Coulter
Comments: 13
Kudos: 73





	Whatever Means Necessary

"No," Lyra breathed, her eyes widening and her entire body tensing as Mrs. Coulter took hold of her chin. From her peripheral vision Mrs. Coulter saw Pan look up at her, his red panda face struck and pained as the monkey slid over to him. They were  _ alone,  _ with no one other than the now-lifeless witch there with them. A perfect coincidence, perhaps, or else  _ fate _ for them to meet again like this.

"Shh," Mrs. Coulter soothed, aware of Pan sinking into a crouch and Lyra's hands starting to move. They wanted to flee, as they very well would. Mrs. Coulter wouldn't have expected it any other way given their last confrontation and the general state of their relationship. With a twitch of her nose the monkey held Pan firmly in place, forcing him still and not allowing even one ounce of wiggle room. Lyra slouched down at that, her eyes narrowing in shock and defiance as she glowered up at her mother. 

Mrs. Coulter had been imagining the moment of their reunion for several weeks. Months, really, if she could count the time she spent searching for Lyra after she’d left London. She never quite imagined it like  _ this,  _ though, in the middle of a canyon under the sun of a strange world and in the presence of cruel, soul-eating creatures who currently served as her own personal brand of bodyguards. She’d imagined their reunion to be sweet, with Mrs. Coulter picking Lyra up from a Magisterial office or else having her brought directly to her. But everything had changed, and in this moment the entire world as they knew it seemed to be hanging in the balance between them.

"I'm here to protect you," Mrs. Coulter told her, running her hand across Lyra's cheek. Lyra flinched away, crying out as the monkey bit down on Pan's neck after he'd tried to run. But it was no use. Mrs. Coulter offered a sad smile, her eyes flicking over her daughter's face. It was only a few days ago she saw her at Boreal's, but it still felt like an entire lifetime. The little girl she was looking at was not the same one she'd known in London, or even at Bolvangar. She’d gone on to see and experience so much more than was even fair for a child to have to do, as well as bear the weight of a prophecy she’d never asked to bear and didn’t even realize she was bearing.

How innocent was she, Mrs. Coulter had to stop and wonder? What horrors of this world and others had she already seen? What kind of person had Lyra Belacqua, Mother of All, become? 

"You've grown so much," she mused aloud, aware still of the pressure the monkey pressed on Pan. He wasn't hurting him, exactly, but keeping him still. Lyra was still, too, although a single tear began to fall down her cheek. 

"Where's Will?" Lyra asked, her voice faltering as yet more tears fell and began to cascade down her sweet, dirtied face. 

"Don't cry, darling," Mrs. Coulter whispered to her, moving a hand to wipe away the tears. “I’m here now.” 

Lyra flinched again at her words and at the contact. Mrs. Coulter stopped to gaze down at her. Lyra. Her darling Lyra, found after all this time. She couldn't begin to describe the rush of  _ feeling  _ that coursed through her. Tenderness, yes, but also  _ fear _ —a strong dose of fear over what Lyra was destined to do and who out there was trying to reach her. 

"Don't hurt me," Lyra said then, cutting through Mrs. Coulter's thoughts. The woman looked down to see Lyra's teeth clenched and her fists curled into balls as she glared up at her mother, unable to move but unwilling to relent. Her heart ached at that, to see the girl so completely and utterly afraid.

"My dear child, I'm here to  _ save  _ you," Mrs. Coulter assured her, bending down to place a warm kiss on the girl's forehead. Despite their entrapment Lyra was still able to nudge away from her, causing Mrs. Coulter's lips to grace her filthy hair instead. Mrs. Coulter sighed, placing her hand under Lyra’s chin again to lift it up.

"You have to be able to see that by now," Mrs. Coulter continued, pausing only momentarily to consider the pair of spectres that still lingered over by the witch. They'd followed her every command and had been good to her, going where she instructed and keeping her safe from threats while imposing threats of their own. Lyra's eyes followed hers and were searching the air before faint recognition set in. 

"You can control them," Lyra gasped, true fear now starting to trickle into her dark eyes. "The spectres." 

"Yes." Mrs. Coulter’s voice was calm and cool. She would deny Lyra nothing, she decided. She would tell her the answers to anything she asked. 

“You’re vile,” Lyra said then, and Mrs. Coulter’s face fell as the girl thrashed around and her daemon dislodged himself from the monkey, letting out a mighty howl. 

“Lyra,” Mrs. Coulter tried, leaning forward, but Lyra had gathered more strength now with Pan’s small release. She flung her leg out so that it hit Mrs. Coulter in her stomach, causing her to fall over as the wind was knocked out of her. In a flurry of activity she saw Pan move to nip at the monkey, causing her daemon to growl and then hiss before Pan jumped away from him.

But they weren’t fast enough. The golden monkey quickly overpowered Pan once more and sunk his teeth squarely into the scruff of his neck. Lyra stopped then, too, collapsing onto the edge of the rock and wincing as the monkey’s teeth adjusted his hold on the red panda.

“You won’t escape this time,” Mrs. Coulter told her, recovered now as she stood up and closed the small gap between them. She knelt down in front of her, looking passively at Lyra’s contorted face. “We need to leave now, Lyra.”

“No,” Lyra grunted, face scrunched with pain as she twisted her face to glare at her mother. Mrs. Coulter was struck by the  _ intensity  _ that glittered back at her. “I won’t go with you. I won’t  _ ever  _ go with you. I need to stay with Will.”

“Will,” Mrs. Coulter repeated, a mocking edge to her voice now. She knew that boy was trouble the moment she laid eyes on him, with his arm slinking out to steal the alethiometer and the arrogance with which he brandished that knife. He’d given Boreal a good enough fight for Mrs. Coulter to know that he mustn’t be stupid, but that was even  _ worse,  _ for Lyra to have gotten tangled up with a sharp and clever boy doing who  _ knew  _ what.

The thought made Mrs. Coulter shudder, considering her child and this boy and a prophecy surrounding the two of them. It all made sense then, and made Mrs. Coulter’s eyes narrow as she realized a renewed conviction in what she had to do. 

“You’re coming with me, darling, and I prefer you do so gracefully. Stand up and take my hand now.”

“ _ Never,”  _ Lyra growled, and then she spat—actually  _ spat  _ at Mrs. Coulter with her saliva finding its way directly onto her nose. 

Mrs. Coulter wiped it away calmly, not skipping a beat. The golden monkey read her mind and tightened his grip on Pan to the point that the daemon whimpered and Lyra gasped before falling to her knees, breathing hard.

“Don’t make me do this,” Mrs. Coulter whispered, crouching down so they were at eye-level. Lyra was indeed so much more grown than the last time she’d spent time with her, but she saw the same little girl glare fiercely back at her in that moment: defiant, unruly, indifferent, and stubborn. Mrs. Coulter  _ wanted  _ to see someone else,  _ wanted  _ to see a bit of gratitude for what it was Mrs. Coulter was risking to protect her like this. But of course, she didn't see that. Not in the slightest. 

“Let go of me,” Lyra mumbled, and Mrs. Coulter was taken back to another world and another time. Lyra was shoved into a separating chamber shouting  _ “let go of me, let go out me!”  _ at the top of her lungs before letting out a piercing cry of  _ “mother!”.  _

“I can’t,” Mrs. Coulter returned, feeling her voice crack as she gazed down at her poor, lost little Lyra. “You’ll only run, and I need to keep you safe.”

She didn’t want to do this. Mrs. Coulter felt her eyes pool up and her chest tighten as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small pill. She’d found it back in Cittàgazze. She’d wanted something milder for situations like these, where she needed to keep someone quiet but alive. She hadn’t imagined using it so soon, of course, let alone on Lyra herself. She hadn’t known  _ what  _ to expect upon finding her daughter, but it certainly wasn’t this.

“I’m sorry,” Mrs. Coulter whispered, so faint the girl probably didn’t hear her. Mrs. Coulter took Lyra’s canteen from her bag, which was half-full of water. She dropped the pill into the container and then shook it roughly, watching more tears pour from Lyra’s eyes as she watched helplessly. 

“What are you doing?” the girl practically cried, and Mrs. Coulter wanted to comfort her. She wanted to reach out and hold her, rocking her to and fro and hugging her tight and washing away all of her hurt. But she couldn’t. She took hold of Lyra’s mouth and forced the water in it, not having to hold her down as much since the monkey had Pan securely in place.

It was awful, to hear the gurgling sounds as Lyra choked on the water and some of it came splashing out. Mrs. Coulter shushed her, humming a little lullabye under her breath as she patiently poured the water in and made sure Lyra drank enough of it. She set the container down once it was mostly gone.

“I hate you!” Lyra screeched, voice hoarse from both the water and from her crying as more and more tears continued to flow. Mrs. Coulter leaned forward at that and gave in to her impulse to hold Lyra, persisting even as Lyra’s body met hers coldly and limply.

“I’m doing this to protect you,” Mrs. Coulter repeated as Lyra continued to cry. The girl was inconsolable as her body began to convulse and shake with her tears. After a few minutes Lyra even grabbed her, not to attack but to simply cling on to someone as her breathing picked up and grew more and more haggard. 

“Just relax, my love,” Mrs. Coulter murmured in her ear, giving it a quick kiss. “You’ll be asleep soon, and when you wake we’ll be safe.”

“How could you,” Lyra let out, but her voice was slurry. Her eyes widened as she looked over at Mrs. Coulter, panic flaring.

“You’ll be alright, dear,” Mrs. Coulter crooned, stroking Lyra’s hair and continuing to sing quietly under her breath as the girl grew more and more sleepy until her entire body loosened and fell into Mrs. Coulter’s arms. Looking over at the daemons, Mrs. Coulter saw that Pan had grown limp, too, in the form of an ermine. The monkey picked him up and held him gingerly under his arm.

What she was doing, Mrs. Coulter knew, was insane. Completely and utterly insane. Part of her fully recognized that. But it was what she had to do. Lyra wasn't safe. She didn't understand the kind of danger she was in, the kind of danger they  _ all  _ were in. How could she, as innocent as she was? Lyra was only a child.  _ Her  _ child. A child who needed protecting. And as her mother, it was up to Mrs. Coulter to protect her from things she couldn't possibly understand. 

“We had no choice,” Mrs. Coulter uttered aloud, shifting Lyra so that she was leaning against Mrs. Coulter’s side. She then took a step forward, half-carrying and half-dragging the child with her.

It wasn’t easy, being a parent, or being someone responsible for something so much greater than oneself. It wasn't as glamorous as people might assume or imagine. It was filled with a certain sense of duty that Mrs. Coulter couldn't even begin to describe. 

  
Lyra was special. Lyra was important. Mrs. Coulter now fully realized  _ how  _ truly special and important she was. And if it was the last thing she ever did, Mrs. Coulter would keep her safe—by whatever means necessary.

**Author's Note:**

> I had to write this after feeling just so floored over the finale. This is much darker than I usually go!! I've just been struck all along the way the show has portrayed Mrs. Coulter's character, and sort of feel like we have two canons/personalities for her now—!show Marisa and !book Marisa. Anyway, I wanted to take a stab at writing what Mrs. Coulter might have said to Lyra before drugging her, as well as sharing some of what might have crossed her mind to justify it. I'll just be continuing to cry and obsess over these characters as we await anxiously for news on season 3!


End file.
